Blown Away
by ICurrentlyLoveChairandBade
Summary: An Amian fanfic based on Carrie Underwood's Blown Away. R&R!


**This is my first try at writing an Amian story. I think most of you know me for writing Hamead, but I think I need to branch out more. So, here is ****_Blown Away._**

**PS: The song is Carrie Underwood's ****_Blown Away _****and it's mostly based on the music video, directed by. . . well, I don't exactly know. But if you find his/her name, please give it to me so I can edit this. Thanks.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the 39 Clues or the amazingly talented Carrie Underwood's ****_Blown Away._**** Enjoy.**

* * *

...

Dry lightning cracks across the skies  
Those storm clouds gather in her eyes  
Her daddy was a mean old mister  
Mama was an angel in the ground  
The weather man called for a twister  
She prayed blow it down

...

Her hands trembled as she lifted up her cup of coffee, looking down, but occasionally looking nervously at the man opposite her, taking gulps of his whisky. She gathers up her pile of homework papers and stands up to leave, but suddenly her daddy says, "Is that history? Sit down. I can help you, you know. I used to be really good at history."

She knows that he's drunk when he grabs her wrist and tries to force her down. Her mind filled with panic, and pretty soon she's running away from him, having wrenched her wrist away from him. She hears him shout, "Amy Cahill, come back and sit down! I am your father, young lady!"

When she gets to her room, she prays. What for, she's not exactly sure, either. Just that she prays, the most important thing.

She can't even remember when he became like this. Not when Mama died, that's for sure. He was drunk even before they buried Mama. Drunk all the time, she can't even remember when he wasn't.

Right now she can hear him, in a rage in the kitchen downstairs, flipping the table, and she touches the scar on her arm. Why did Mama have to go?

When she hears no more of his rage, she creeps downstairs and finds him passed out on the kitchen floor, but she knows he's just drunk. She goes to the TV and turns it on. The weatherman was saying, "There's going to be a twister soon, folks. Better get ready!"

"Twister?" The word wasn't foreign to her. She had heard it many times, living in Oklahoma and especially when Mama died. But most of the conversations between Mama's "friends" or the women who gossiped, were about the twister that. . .

She shut her eyes firmly. No thinking about that now.

Looking around the room, she glanced at the flipped table. _Better get that now before Daddy gets mad._

She tried to flip the table back up, but it was too heavy. How ironic that a drunk man was able to flip it over, the same weight, but a perfectly sober girl wasn't able to flip it back up. Maybe it had something to do with the genders.

"Ohh." She jumped in panic. She had forgotten about her father, still passed out on the kitchen tiles. Dragging him by his arms, she yanked him onto the couch. "Ahoh." Another moan.

* * *

...

There's not enough rain in Oklahoma  
To wash the sins out of that house  
There's not enough wind in Oklahoma  
To rip the nails out of the past

...

"Ow." She let out a moan as Sinead Starling wrapped some gauze around her wrist.

Sinead frowned. "Amy Cahill, you have to stop letting him do this to you."

"I can't! I'm not all brilliant like you, charming like Jonah, dangerous like Natalie, or strong like Hamilton!" Now she was frustrated. Couldn't anyone see that she was hopeless in this situation?

Sinead raised an eyebrow at her. "Are you really going to start me off on pity?" Sinead came from a similar background, with a drunk father and a depressed mother who did nothing but stare out the window. It wasn't a good idea to start her off on why she shouldn't pity Amy.

"No," The hazel eyed girl looked down at the gauze on her wrist while the emerald eyed one leaned on the windowsill and looked out the window, so much like her mother.

Amy had been to her house before, only after her father had left. Mrs. Starling had been disturbingly vacant, staring out the window and only tearing herself away to look at her daughter, and Amy had been shocked to see the gaunt look in her eyes before Sinead finally said quietly, "Ames, you go up first. My room is the one painted turquoise."

And she had went up. She had heard Sinead gently prodding her mother to take eat some bananas or something like that. And when Mrs. Starling had asked why, Sinead simply replied, "They help with depression. Now, eat."

And her mother must have, because the auburn-haired 17 year old came upstairs to join Amy.

"Amy!" Now Sinead shook her out of the past. "Earth to Amy."

Amy fixed her glance on her best friend. "Sinead, tell me how to get rid of him. Please."

"Get rid of your father?" The two friends whirled around and Natalie Kabra stood there. "Amelia, there's not enough rain in Oklahoma to wash the sins out of your house, nor is there enough wind in Oklahoma to rip the nails that have dug into your past."

Sinead let out a snort. "Either you got that from a fortune cookie or Jonah brainwashed you."

Natalie reddened. "I created it myself."

"Well, original or not, I have to go." The junior slung her backpack onto one shoulder, but didn't get very far before bumping into Ian Kabra, Natalie's brother.

"I-I-" she stammered, stepping away. Ian looked equally flustered. "Where are you going in such a hurry, love-" But Amy was already gone, and as Ian walked into the same room where Sinead and Natalie sat.

Sinead raised an eyebrow, and Natalie sighed. "We heard everything, brother dear."

"Mm-hmm." Sinead mixed whipped cream into her espresso. "You need to try harder."

Ian sighed. "I know," he said, looking down at his feet. "But how?"

* * *

...

Shatter every window 'til it's all blown away,  
Every brick, every board, every slamming door blown away  
'Til there's nothing left standing, nothing left of yesterday  
Every tear-soaked whiskey memory blown away,  
Blown away

...

The twister came when Amy was outside picking flowers for her mother's grave. She saw it in the distance and ran all the way home.

Slamming the door, she turned on the TV. "-It's nasty, folks!" The gray-haired weatherman shook his head. "If you're in Oklahoma now, get yourself into a shelter! Remember, a shelter is a room with no-" She switched the channel to another weather channel, where the weatherwoman was a young brunette who looked genuinely concerned for Oklahoma.

"Folks, it's heading toward your way fast, if you're still in Oklahoma! Get yourself into a shelter as fast as you can!" she took a deep breath and continued. "Oklahoma residents, don't be afraid to leave your home. Your life is more important."

* * *

...

She heard those sirens screaming out  
Her daddy laid there passed out on the couch  
She locked herself in the cellar  
Listened to the screaming of the wind  
Some people call it taking shelter  
She called it sweet revenge

...

It was half past five when she heard the sirens. And the screams. It was chaos. "Johnny! Here!" "No! Emily! Don't go for your teddy!" And there were the mothers who were bawling their children's deaths out.

Suddenly, there was pounding on the door. Startled, Amy went to the door. Ian Kabra stood there, his hair stuck up. "Ian! What are you doing? Where's Natalie?"

Ian looked frantic. "Amy why aren't you in a shelter yet?"

Oh. She hadn't thought of that. "Let's go," she gasped as she snatched her coat. She started to go out the door just as Ian said, "What about your father?"

Amy looked around and saw him passed out on the couch. And in that moment, she made a lifelong wish come true. "No."

"No?" Ian looked truly started, but seeing the look on Amy's face, he decided not to ask. He held her hand as they fled to the safe shelter in the cellar.

* * *

...

Shatter every window 'til it's all blown away,  
Every brick, every board, every slamming door blown away  
'Til there's nothing left standing, nothing left of yesterday  
Every tear-soaked whiskey memory blown away,  
Blown away

...

There was a bed in the cellar, and Amy climbed onto it and covered her ears. Ian sat on a chair and stared out at the tiny window.

She shut her eyes tightly. She hated twisters. Especially because of the one a few years ago. . .

_"Amy!" her mother looked frantic. "Go!"_

_"But-" _

_"I'll be there! I promise! Just go!"_

_And Amy had. Halfway to the cellar, though, she heard her mother's light footsteps. And heard them replaced by a scream. Then a grunt, and a slurred shout of, "You ain't leaving me. In fact, you ain't going in." Then she heard her mother shrieking, trying to get up from the ground until a dull thud made her shrieking stop. _

_And her father came in, calm. There were flecks of blood on his shirt, but the only thing he hissed at Amy was, "Light a candle, you stupid girl. It's freezing and dark in here."_

And in that moment, when the flashback ended, she knew she had made the right decision about her father.

* * *

...

There's not enough rain in Oklahoma  
To wash the sins out of that house  
There's not enough wind in Oklahoma  
To rip the nails out of the past

...

"You know," began Ian, breaking the silence. "Did my sister tell you that there's not enough rain in Oklahoma"

"-to wash the sins out of my house and there's not enough wind in Oklahoma"

"-to rip the nails out of the past." Ian finished.

"Where's Natalie?" Amy looked around.

Ian sighed. "She went with the rescuers up north."

"She-" a rumble shattered their eardrums and forced them to hunch down as parts of the cellar cracked a little. Amy and Ian clutched each other. They stared at each other. And then they leaned close into each other. And they kissed. It was a light one, like a one you'd give during a twister while you're trying not to die.

Amy thought about her father, then glanced through the tiny window out at the destruction. Maybe there _was_ a way to wash the sins out of the house. And maybe she was standing at the center of it, trying not to get killed by it.

* * *

...

Shatter every window 'til it's all blown away (blown away)  
Every brick, every board, every slamming door blown away (blown away)  
'Til there's nothing left standing, nothing left of yesterday (blown away)  
Every tear-soaked whiskey memory blown away,

...

When the couple was sure the twister had stopped completely, they came out. The sky was azalea. The grass shone. And Amy's house was gone, probably torn away by the twister.

"You can stay with Natalie and I," suggested Ian, but right now Amy wasn't worried about finding a home. She walked toward where her house once stood. Only two things remained. A plank of wood and a locket.

She picked up the locket. There were initials engraved on it .H.C. Hope Cahill. Amy opened the locket and found herself staring at a picture, dusty and old, of two young people, obviously dressed or at- for their wedding.

Then man was tall and sturdy, with his arm around the reddish-haired woman's waist tightly as they both smiled for the camera.

Suddenly, Amy was struck with a sense of familiarness. These were her parents. That's why Hope Cahill had decided to put this in her locket, reminding her of better times when her husband wasn't drunk. Amy's eyes filled with tears as she slipped the locket into her pocket.

* * *

...

Blown away, blown away, blown away, blown away, blown away

...

*Flash Foward*

Years later, Amy Cahill was dressed for her wedding and smiling at the camera herself, Ian Kabra's arm around her waist tightly.

Amy had no reason to doubt Ian loved her. But there was the teeniest, tiniest, chance that he might turn out like Amy's father.

But as Amy leaned her cheek against Ian's shoulder, she felt nothing to worry about.

* * *

**Well? I worked for days on this. PLEASE REVIEW! **

***Ahem.* Sorry. I get hyper. **

**R&R!**


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